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living
Join Date: Jan 2013
Posts: 3,485
Battle Record: 33-18
Accomplishments - Hall of Fame
Champed - AOWL Season 1
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IIIIII
I've tried to be happy. tried a coke and a smile but i can't shake the feeling that my hope is denial and i'm sorry for changing. that i'm socially wild but when it's only us i'm more like an emotional child at a festival surrounded by excitement and sound lonelier than ever as i followed the crowd met a stranger by the willow tree. he loaned me a light we talked, tobacco molten delight. smoke in the night he too, felt disconnected, but accepted the distance like, it all gets so old. the drugs, the tension, the bitches the love, the pressure, the systems like nothing's better than sickness. i like to be alone sometimes but friends are persistent calculating interactions. analytic and strange inhibited, sane. aware. i miss my primitive brain if you think, you think too much about the tiniest task pour your pint in a flask and toast the moment. if you like your coffee black, wine white in your glass it's a sign of the times, zeitgeist approaches. there's a color to music that gives it texture and taste i've recycled time enough to know it's better to waste i've devolved into a prototype. repetitive, fake it was over the second they gave the devil a face. my demons are dollars. endorsements, checking at Chase spent on any substance that presents an escape. i'm evil. stupid. selfish. all those negative traits but i'm centered. almost perfect. true perfection awaits passion in these parables, poetic for praise it's a proper alternative to repressive malaise it's pain but not exactly cause it's pleasant at times adrenaline rushes from looking death in her eyes there's not a sedative high that can compare to success not a failure that can measure up to marital stress sometimes what's truly beautiful is fairly depressed and purity is found inside a terrible mess prepare for the next. compressing air in your chest i say whatever comes to mind. but say it in jest naked, her breasts were Marilyn, yes - Monroe in her prime I guess Gentleman Prefer a woman loaded with Skyy. cornucopia, the joker's card that nobody plays huffing nitrous til we float, like parades. moles in a cage prayer wasn't enough to wash my clothes in the rain it didn't save my homie from the coma, he stayed no destination headed like a road to the Gray place your coat on a hanger. welcome home, it's been ages i'm supposed to be famous. Dead men are media martyrs camera crews to black spoons inside a seedy apartment spirit departed, what a cliche. shotgun shell in your face watch me smile. iAm the devil's embrace. IIIIII
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Zack Wicks for president Last edited by dead man; 09-08-2013 at 10:04 PM. |
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